Dear Muthuh,

Today marks the 1st anniversary of the first and only major crash I've ever had on a motorcycle in all my 30 years of riding. My "when" of the saying - "It's not if you wreck - but when" came while on my way to Bowling Green, Kentucky for the All Harley Drag Races and if you don't believe in the Spirits of Indian philosophy - you will (or should) by the time you finish reading my story. Goes like this...

The first guy who got to me couldn't believe I just walked up out of the ditch on the side of I40 dusting myself off saying to him, "yea - I'm bad!" And they thought I was in shock!! You should have seen all the people who stopped on both sides of the highway freaking out running up to me screaming in my face, "I'm A Doctor! I'm A Nurse!!" Even though I had just experienced a helluva ride and even a more hellacious spill (maybe I should say "roll".)

Barrell rolling down the interstate at 70 miles per hour is a little more than a "spill" I'd say), I knew I had to prove to these assholes (and I'll tell you how they qualified as assholes later) that I was the one who had my shit together - not them. (Don't know if Xena or Chyna would have made it through this one or not - I doubt it - so many imposters out there - where's my agent when I need him!!) Anyway, "Slider" and I got a little skint up but this story really begins one month prior to this when I set out for Colorado and dropped in at a reservation to see the people who are now some very, very special people in my life - The Zuni Indians.

I had always admired the craftmanship in jewelry-making of the Zuni Indian tribe. I'd see their stuff in this magazine called "Cowboys and Indians" and in planning my trip out to the Four Corners Rally in Ignacio, Colorado last year, I noticed where the Zuni Indian tribe was on the map and immediately knew that I had to go there. When I got to the crossroad that led into the reservation, there was this store on the corner with all these Indians hanging out. I went in to reload my cooler and they were selling the hell out of beer and whiskey and cigarettes! While I was there, one of the kids ran out of the store with a arm full of six-packs and the woman behind the counter was just raising hell about it. She was Indian, too, but don't ask me what she said.

I've been in a few other places before where I've been just about the only white American person there and felt rather uncomfortable but for some reason - I felt really at home with these people. Maybe it was all that black hair - I don't know. Anyway, I figured I might as well buy some whiskey, too, and by the time I got up to the counter to pay for mine, most everybody else was outside drinking what they had just bought and just hanging out. I started talking to the woman and we ended up talking for awhile. Then, she told me how to find the man on the reservation that I needed to see about the jewelry.

(ok - I've almost put myself to sleep telling this part of the story. I'll check back in with 'ya tomorrow for Part II if I can find the time - I'm going to bed. Later...)

- Philly

 

 
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